Let them be ashamed
by Andromeda of Othrys
Summary: "Let them be ashamed for a change. I will never be ashamed of myself again, and everyone shall know it." Even the future Dark Lords need some pep talk on occasion.


**This drabble was written for Slytherin House, prompt being Ashamed - 858 words**

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Being an outsider was horrible.

Tom had enough experience with the feeling to last him several lifetimes– curse that Muggle orphanage. However, he didn't expect he would have to deal with it when he stepped into the Wizarding World. Professor Dumbledore had hinted in his brief visit he wouldn't have much to his name – that was hardly an issue – but to be ostracized from his own House because he had no magical relatives? They were supposed to be a family, damn it!

 _The wizards were supposed to be different from Muggles!_

That subtle shunning in the common room and dormitory and farce of the unity outside drove him to the banks of the Black Lake, where he could sit and ponder without nasty looks burning into his back. The late September wind was bitter without thick robes on, but Tom ignored it, too focused on his reflection in the lake and his own thoughts.

He never felt more ashamed of himself. He never felt more angry at the rotting corpse of his wretch of a mother. If only she had lived, maybe he would've known if his father were magical: something more useful than the fact he looked nearly exactly like him! Granted, being a halfblood wouldn't be enough for every Slytherin, but it was still better than a _Mudblood._

"Hey, Riddle!"

Tom flinched as the girl's chipper voice tore him from his own ruminations and turned to see one of his Gryffindor yearmates; one of the less annoying ones, who was a Mudblood just like him.

"Hello, Voynich," he sighed, returning his gaze to the vast watery mirror.

He heard rather than saw the girl sit down next to him, gravel crunching.

"What got this snakeling to slither out of his nest alone?" Dea Voynich asked, and Tom could feel her heavy-lidded gaze on him.

"Nothing," he answered, taking care not to portray any sort of emotion and trying not to compare his current behavior to the one in the orphanage. Oh no, he wasn't going there. "What got this lion cub to pace out of her pack's den?"

"Nothing," she parroted with a sing-song undertone before continuing in a more serious voice. "You shouldn't go out alone, Tom."

"Don't use my name," he snapped reflexively before he registered exactly what the girl had said. "Do you, an honorable Gryffindor, care for an evil Slytherin of all people?" The entire sentence was dripping with sarcasm as he turned to look at her.

Dea shrugged, picked up one of the pebbles next to her and threw it into the water, watching the ripples spreading. "I'm a Muggleborn, Tom," she reminded him. "Or close to one, anyway. I was not raised on this school's rivalries."

"'Close to'?" Tom didn't understand. Was she saying she wasn't a Muggleborn?

Dea smiled sadly as she locked her gaze with Tom's. "The point is, I know how isolation feels. Magic isn't the only strange thing out here, Tom." Her fingers whispered across her temple, pointing to her eyes - red as the fresh blood. "I remember things I should not, and my eyes... For the longest time, my birth family hated me for them. I was so ashamed of myself, because I believed them; I believed I was the reason for all the unfortunate things happening around us. I ran away, I was that ashamed."

Tom could barely stifle the urge to ask for more details. It wasn't difficult to believe Dea's story. He knew what Muggles thought of magic and anything strange better than anyone.

"Then I ran into a mismatched group of people. They didn't care about my eyes, about my visions that left every fragile object shattered… they became my real family."

"The Voynich family?" Tom asked, interrupting.

Dea smirked and shook her head. "Voynich _is_ my birth family."

Tom blinked. Why would she keep her hated family's name? Why not start anew?

"You see," and here her smirk widened, "I knew how much they wanted me not to be a Voynich. If I took my new family's name, I would effectively admit they won."

"So you..." Tom's lips pulled up in shock and admiration. Who would've thought an innocent lion would do something so… devious and twisted?

"So I decided to keep the Voynich surname. Let them be ashamed for a change," Dea's eyes were glinting with unholy glee, and her smile was all teeth. "It will tell the world what they did to me, how they threw me aside, and how I rose up on my own merit. I will never be ashamed of myself again, and everyone shall know it."

Tom laughed loudly. "How are you not a Slytherin?"

Dea was still grinning. "Because Tom," she purred, very pleased with herself, "it's more fun this way. No one expects a snake to hide in lion's den."

Tom stood up, his laughter now bordering on hysterical, and offered her a hand. _What a girl! And the best thing is, she's right. Why should I be ashamed of my blood status when I'm better in magic than all those snotty purebloods?_

 _ **I'll show them. I'll show them all.**_


End file.
